Okay, this is not a story with a whole lot of sex. Some will come in here and there, but it is not the central theme. It's a story about love between men and self-acceptance, kinda like all of my stories are.
If you're under 18 or 21 or whatever, be aware that in some odd corner of the universe, you could possibly be breaking the law.
If you like anything of mine, please e-mail me at virtualinsanity78@yahoo.com and I will be very grateful to you and a lot more likely to write faster updates. If you don't like what I write, keep it to yourself. :-)
IMPORTANT!!! This story includes excerpts of Paul & Morgan's memoir, which I will separate from the rest of the story with asteriks like the one's below. If this is confusing, e-mail me and let me know and I will try to figure something else out!
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Part Eleven
Morgan & Paul:
Paul:
Morgan sat with his back against the headboard of the queen-sized bed he had shared with Louisa. I sat in an armchair a few feet away and off to the side. It had been 24 hours since Louisa left him...and me, I guess...alone in their rambling house.
Morgan spent much of that time sleeping off the alcohol that was in his system and I wandered around the house, taking note of the life that he had built with my sister. In a deep way, I was saddened. I didn't know how to start over with Morgan...and I wasn't sure if what we had between us was good enough for me to take the risk of being hurt again.
I knew that I wanted him. I had known that since I was twelve. It seemed to be the only unchanging fact in my life. But I was also learning that sometimes what you want in life is not neccessarily what you get....or what you need for that matter.
There was something inside of me, jumping up and down at the chance that I had to build a life with Morgan...and there was also something inside of me cringing at the risk that I was taking. Hadn't I promised myself on the plane ride home that I was not going to allow Morgan the opportunity to get under my skin again? Yet, there I was not even a full day into the trip and he was definitely under my skin.
He had never been all that good at expressing himself emotionally, at coming to terms with the fact that he had feelings for another man. Could I honestly expect that to change? I had my doubts.
Morgan's eyes were fixed on me, they were bloodshot, but I knew that he was stone sober. I had made sure of it. One of the many tasks I had embarked on over the last day had been in dumping the contents of every bottle of alcohol in the house down the kitchen sink.
Step one for us was going to be him never touching another bottle of alcohol again. Step two...I hadn't gone so far as to even think of step two. But I did know one thing. Morgan was still my brother-in-law and before anything happened between us, I had to be sure that his relationship with my sister was over.
I sat stiffly in the armchair, unsure of what Morgan would be like in the cold light of day now that he was sober.
"Do you feel alright?" I asked him quietly, trying to maintain a semblance of calm from my perch at his side. He nodded, still looking at me.
I cleared my throat a little. Did he even remember what had happened the day before?
"Can you eat, do you think?" I asked slowly and he shook his head and turned a little green around the edges. He continued to stare at me.
My heart began to pound erratically in my chest and I felt tears prick the back of my eyes. No way could I sit there on display for him. I stood up.
"Coffee," I said brightly. "I'll make a pot of coffee. I'll be right back."
With that, I flounced out of the room, barely able to breathe properly. I talked myself into not panicking and leaving the house as I made my way down to the kitchen. I had made myself familiar with the place the night before, so it was no big deal for me to get the cheap coffee grounds out of the cabinet and set the coffee pot perking.
I had dumped a heaping spoonful of grounds into the filter when I felt an arm creep around my waist. I stood still. Morgan pressed himself against me from behind, buried his face in my neck and sniffed loudly. My hands were shaking.
I racked my brain for something that I could say, something to make everything bearable and then I heard him sob. A flash of pure emotion coursed through my veins. I dropped the spoon with a loud clatter and held on to the edge of the counter.
He cried, his arms wrapped tightly around my chest and torso. I could feel the hot, wet tears on the back of my neck. He was sobbing and I had no idea of what would comfort him, if I even wanted to comfort him.
After what seemed like endless moments, with my grip white-knuckled against the counter as I fought the desire to turn around into his arms and comfort him, his tears slowed and the hoarse sounds that were coming from his throat died down, the tremors that racked his body stilled. He didn't let me go.
"Where's Louisa?" he asked in a voice that was still thick with emotion. I forced myself to take a couple of deep breaths before I spoke.
"She left," I told him quietly. I didn't know how he was going to take that. I didn't want to go into details. Hell, I didn't really know the details. He was silent for a moment.
"I made her miserable," he told me against my neck. "I really fucked things up all around."
I bit my lip to keep quiet, but couldn't.
"What did you think you were doing, Morgan, marrying my sister?" I asked shakily, unable to be comforting, unable to get past the fact of what Morgan had done five years before.
Morgan was silent for a long time.
"She looked like you," he said with a laugh. "Her eyes reminded me of yours. The curve of her cheek is like yours. Your noses are identical. I thought...I figured I could pretend. She was as close to you as I could get in female form. I thought it would be e-enough."
It was useless to ask him if it had been. I was standing there trying to help him sort through the shambles of the life he'd made.
"The first time I saw you, soaking wet from walking home in the rain, your hair plastered against your head, I knew you'd change me," he said. "I thought at first I could screw around with you, but I got scared and bailed on that. I tried dating the girls around the neighborhood, but I always came back to you. Then, to find out that you were with Sammy...I wanted to kill him.
"I thought we could keep it simple, fuck around, you were almost a man. I thought we could handle it. But every day I wanted you more and every time we were apart, I couldn't wait to get back to you. I was scared shitless...and so I went to Viet-fucking-Nam.
"I told you all those years ago when you had that gun in your mouth that it was stupid to want to kill yourself over me, but I tried to do the same thing, Paulie. I tried to kill myself by enlisting in the military and going over there. I was trying to die...so I wouldn't have to live like this."
He moved his arms away from my chest and turned me around. There were tears on my cheeks.
"But I don't have to live like this, Paul, we don't," he said, meeting my eyes for the first time, carefully placing his hands on the side of my face.
"I thought that it mattered...that there was no way I could let anybody know that I'm queer," he went on. "But that's not what matters. What matters is that you can build a life with the person that you love. And I love you...I've loved you since the first time I saw you and I don't ever want to be apart from you."
"Don't say this kind of stuff if you don't mean it, Morgan," I said slowly, unable to control the tears that were practically drowning my face. "I c-can't do this. I don't want to be hurt again."
"I mean it," Morgan said. "I mean it, Paul. Please, believe me. Give me another a chance. Please, Paul. I will take care of you. I won't fail you again."
So, I did...and he never has. ********************************************************** Eric:
Skit sat across from me in the break room of the gay antique shop, quietly watching as I finished marking up Morgan and Paul's memoir. I peeked at him and grinned a little.
"I thought you were gonna be sketching, not staring at me," I teased him and he blushed a teeny bit, which was the cutest thing in the world to me. I bumped my knee against his underneath the table.
"I'm all done," he said and I reached over and whipped his black sketchpad clockwise until I had a clear view of it. It was another drawing of me. I had my head bent and I was biting my lip as I peered down at the paper in front of me. The best part of the sketch was the way that Skit had drawn my eyes, intensely concentrating but with a touch of gentleness over them. I let out a sigh.
"You're extremely talented, Skit," I told him and he just shrugged a little. This had to be the millionth time that he had heard someone tell him. "So, what do you want to do with your art?"
He shrugged again and looked at me.
"In reality or fantasy?" he asked.
"Both," I said.
"In a perfect world, I would be a famous artist somewhere with people spending a fortune on a single painting," he said. "In reality, I'll be lucky if I get to illustrate a few books or do some family portraits."
"Sometimes...well, sometimes perfection and reality come together," I said after a moment and he smiled at me.
"Tell me about it," he said and I grinned, knowing that he was talking about me. "Eric, you know...you have a way with words. People wouldn't automatically think that about you, but you do."
I shrugged this time.
"Vicki said that you were one of her top students in creative writing," Skit said.
"Deneghy?" I said. "She gave me good grades."
"She told the MP that you're gifted," Skit said.
"Probably for West Central High, I'm gifted," I said jokingly.
"Her girlfriend Pattie thinks you're stuff is good, too," Skit said and I paused before I looked at him.
"Is Deneghy a lesbian?" I asked.
"Yeah," Skit said.
That explained a lot.
"Oh," I said. "Must be why she wanted me to work here."
I paused for a moment.
"Do you think she knew I'm gay?" I asked thoughtfully and Skit looked at me and shook his head.
"Who would think that?" Skit asked. "You didn't even know."
"Yeah," I said.
Just then Kelly and Sheena came bouncing into the break room, their hands clasped together. Their on-again, off-again thing was on again, I guess. They came up short when they saw the two of us sitting there. Skit shifted around in his seat, almost umcomfortably.
"Hey," I said to the two of them.
"I thought you two were fighting or something," Sheena said as she and Kelly came to sit near me.
"Nope," I said and turned to smile at Skit. He gave me a weak grin.
"Don't tell me that you two are going out?" Kelly asked with a sly grin and I grinned right back at her.
"Yep," I said proudly.
"Not really," Skit said at the same time. I stared at him.
"What do you mean we're not going out?" I asked.
"We haven't talked about that," Skit reminded me.
"Well, then, we need to talk about it," I said.
"I'd rather not," Skit's words were short.
"I thought you weren't gay?" Sheena asked, eyeing me.
I shrugged. "Skit converted me," I told her jokingly.
Kelly shuddered.
"Watch out for the converts, they almost always swing back in the other direction," she advised Skit.
"Whatever," Sheena said, rolling her eyes.
"It's true," Kelly shot back.
"Name one," Sheena demanded.
"Anne Heche," Kelly said triumphantly. "Left poor Ellen high and dry."
"High and dry?" Sheena repeated incredulously. "Excuse me, I would rather have Portia de Rossi's lips on my cunt than Anne Heche's non-existent ones any day, thank you very much."
"Ew," Skit said. "I'm an artist, guys, the word pictures are killing me."
I laughed until tears were rolling down my cheeks.
Skit's back was against the wall and there was a wierd feeling creeping around in my chest. I placed my hands on either side of him.
"I wanna be going out with you," I told him quietly, firmly now that we had managed to escape Sheena and Kelly's lively clutches. Skit looked at me, then looked away. His tongue darted out and wet his lips and my stomach clenched. There was just something about him.
"I thought we were taking things slow?" Skit said nervously and he reached up and started pulling at a wayward strand of white-blonde hair.
"We are," I told him. "Physically."
"I meant emotionally," Skit said.
"How do you do that?" I asked uncertainly, my eyes meeting his, wide open and honest for him to see. "I really like you, Skit. I just do. I think about you all the time. I dream about you. How do slow that down?"
"I dunno," Skit said softly, then those blue eyes shifted and met mine. "I'm just really sort of scared that you'll change your mind."
"When?" I asked. "When all the guys on the football team find out? When we get back to school? I'll call them all up and tell them if you want me to. Then we can just get it out of the way."
"No," Skit said slow and drawn out.
"Well, what do you want me to do?" I asked.
"I just don't want you to hurt me," he said.
I stared at him.
"I'll do everything I can not to hurt you, Skit," I said. "I can only promise you that I've never felt this way before about anybody or anything...and I want us both to know that we're going out. There shouldn't be any doubt about that. If you don't even give me a chance, how can I try?"
He pouted a little and that was all it took. I leaned down and kissed him, claimed those lips as mine. He held back for a little while, letting me lead the way, then his tongue delved into my mouth and his arms wound around my neck and I trailed my hands down his sides and around his waist to the small of his back. Eventually, we came up for air and Skit's arms tightened around me.
It was at that moment that I saw Drew standing off near the entrance to the storefront, watching us...and a feeling of deja vu went through me. I had been where he was only weeks before, watching Skit in his arms. And I remembered the dream I'd had that night.
"No fratrenizing on store property boys," Paul's voice rang out at us as he walked by and I let Skit go. ********************************************************** More to come!
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